Diary of Jane
by o.wolfgirl.o
Summary: a DracoxHermione song shot. lyrics by Breaking Benjamin. Sequel added. lyrics by Staind.
1. Chapter 1

the lyrics belong to breaking benjamin.  
the characters, obviously, JKRowling.  
this was written way back before JKR changed hermione's middle name from jane to jean.  
please, if you read let me know what you think!  
peace&love, kas

xxxxx

**The Diary of Jane**

He wasn't even sure anymore how he had learned her middle name. All he knew was that she had been Jane to him for a long time now. So long, in fact, that it felt strange to think of her as Granger and even stranger as Hermione. No, she was Jane in his mind and in his heart.

He rolled over on his bed twirling his wand absentmindedly between his fingers. He ignored the silver sparks that shot from the end as his mind wandered, settling on her perfect skin, honey colored eyes, light up the room smile… He sighed with frustration. No, really she was just a bushy-haired, know-it-all, Mudblood. That was all she could ever be to him. And then there was him. He, well, he was an arrogant, cold-hearted, son of a Death Eater. And that's all he would ever be to her.

xxx

He had insulted her again. As usual. And as usual she found herself with a tumultuous battle being fought right through the depths of her heart. He hated her; she knew it, but she had been on his mind. He had looked her in the eye as he had said it, oh what had he said again? She had been too distracted by those gorgeous silver eyes to even pay attention to what he had said. She had heard him, she supposed, because she knew she had retorted in her superior-it-doesn't-bother-me sort of way, but if you asked her, she wouldn't in a million years have been able to recall the insult or the comeback. Because that gosh-awful smirk and the way his eyes had locked onto hers had shoved every other thought out of the way.

_If I had to  
I would put myself right beside you  
So let me ask  
Would you like that?  
Would you like that?_

She was walking towards him, smiling in that pure beautiful way that she only really showed to Potty and the Weasel, damn them. But now, no, now she was directing it at him and him alone. They should be the jealous ones now. She was getting closer now and he found himself smiling in response as he anticipated the way she would feel in his arms. And then the pounding on the door forced him back to the reality of his cold dark dungeon-like dorm room. Jane. That had been another reason for calling her only that. No one ever knew. Jane.

_And I don't mind  
If you say this love is the last time  
So now I'll ask  
Do you like that?  
Do you like that?_

If she could tell him how she felt… if she could even dream of him feeling the same about her… He was the one, she knew it. He held her heart and her hate woven so closely together and she cursed that that had to be true; but it was. It was this fact, especially, she believed, that was the reason she could never feel her love returned. She knew if it ever was, that she wouldn't give it up for the world, but such thoughts, such dreams were for little girls wishing to be princesses and hoping their prince charmings would come sweep them off their feet and gallop them into the sunset. Such dreams were not for girls like her, they didn't apply when you loved the one you hated.

_No _

_Something's getting in the way  
Something's just about to break  
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane  
So tell me how it should be_

Every time he saw her, he thought maybe this time, maybe here, maybe now. But then every dream of a civil conversation, of a word spoken without the undercurrent of loathing, of a single moment of gazing into her eyes instead of glaring, would soar out the window like an untamable bird. Every time he even imagined the possibility of showing her how he felt, of feeling that emotion returned… he remembered the un-scalable wall that had slowly been built between them from the moment they had met. Oh how he wished he could tear that wall down, tear everything that could ever, did ever, come between them, to pieces.

_Try to find out what makes you tick  
As I lie down  
Sore and sick  
Do you like that?  
Do you like that?_

She flung herself unceremoniously onto her bed with a sigh. Why couldn't she keep him from her mind? Must he assail every thought and every dream she ever thought and ever dreamt? Yes, because as many days as she had sat in class staring at the back of his white-blonde head pretending she was glaring hatred at him instead of wishing she knew what he was thinking about… he still left her surprised almost daily. And on those rare, once-in-a-blue-and-pink-polka-dotted-moon sort of occasions, that they actually passed one another in the halls without Harry or Ron or Crabbe or Goyle, he would look at her with a strange look and then look away, no daggers thrown, no sneers sent across the way. It was on those occasions that she wondered, even dared to hope… She sighed once more. Hoping seemed pointless on days like today.

_There's a fine line between love and hate.  
And I don't mind.  
Just let me say that  
I like that  
I like that_

He had heard it said often enough that there was a fine line between love and hate and he had never clung quite so desperately to the hope that something such as that was true. He knew she hated him. He knew it. There was no way around that. And he knew he hated her, too. But what he hated even more was himself. Because like it or not, hate it or not, he loved her, too, and not only did he love her, but he was in love with her with every fiber of his being. That's what he hated most of all. That he could admit to himself so easily that he was in love with her, all the while knowing, as he did know, that he hated her. But then, as much as he hated that fact, he loved it, he loved that he could admit to himself his feelings for her because that meant that someday he might… just might… on one of those slender wisps of a dream… he might be able to admit them to her as well… that someday they might erase or even blur, he'd settle for that, the deep dark line that had been drawn between them… separating love from hate.

_Something's getting in the way.  
Something's just about to break.  
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane._

She hated what kept them apart as much as she clung to it as the last remaining factor of her sanity. If Harry ever knew… if _Ron_ ever knew… those words written only in her head… only in her heart… only in her diary… But they didn't know. They wouldn't know. And neither would he because he hated her and she him. Oh, but she loved him, too, she loved him desperately and she desperately knew that it was wrong. She shouldn't care for him in that way, because well, it was he, the person who had put her and the two people she cared for more than anything through so much hell. But the resolve she had set for herself to not fall any deeper, to pull herself out of this chasm she'd tripped into, was fading, dissolving, rapidly as the speed of light and there was nothing she could do to keep herself from falling deeper.

_As I burn another page,  
As I look the other way.  
I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane.  
So tell me how it should be._

Frustrated still he rolled off of his bed and stormed from the dorm ignoring the dully curious looks from his dorm mates. There was nothing he could do and he knew it. She would never look at him that way and it was all his fault. If only he'd tossed one less insult, if only he had provoked Potter one less time, if only… if only he wasn't he and she wasn't she… if only. But they were who they were and that wasn't changing… so he would have to once again turn away. He strode up the stairs from the dungeons with no intent or purpose, thinking only of her, only of the fact that he could never show his love for her… he wished she knew… he wished she knew so she could tell him to his face that there was no hope… so he knew there was no hope… so he could begin… or at least attempt a beginning at moving on. But he couldn't move on… there was no one else like her… she was the one. And he couldn't possibly move on because there was always hope, as thin, as spindly, as ethereal as it might seem, it was there. Hope was there. He shook his head as he walked on, wondering what hope there could possibly be…

_Desperate, I will crawl  
Waiting for so long  
No love, there is no love.  
Die for anyone  
What have I become?_

Agitated, she pushed herself up off the bed and left the room, then the common room, ignoring the looks of Ron and Harry that followed her out of the portrait hole. She was storming without even knowing why; frustrated with herself, with the situation she had found herself in. He would never love her as she loved him and still she cared for him more than herself. She would give up everything just to hold him in her arms, to be held in his arms… but it would never be… could never be. As she continued on the frustration grew… her mind had become consumed by this, by him, and still she could do nothing. She was drowning in the battling emotions that had overwhelmed her so easily. How had this happened… how had she let herself become like this? And still she continued on.

_Something's getting in the way.  
Something's just about to break.  
I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane._

His thoughts swirled and churned like a heaving ocean in the peak of a storm and he could do nothing to calm them… nothing to calm the war taking place in his heart. He knew the unbreakable barriers that stood between them… he had felt them so many times… he had built them… yet he still wished… hoped… that she might think of him. He had wondered so many times whether there was any point in hoping or whether he should just give up… but it didn't seem to be a choice anymore and he doubted it ever was. He was hopelessly in love with her and it was slowly killing him inside… He reached the entrance hall and paused for just a moment as he realized where he was and wondered where to go next.

_As I burn another page,  
As I look the other way._

She was on the steps when she saw him. Her heart froze a sliver of a second before her body as she stared at him as he stormed up the stairs across the hall. Somehow she forced herself to move again, but her eyes were not so cooperative, glued as they were to his pain-filled face. The thought briefly crossed her mind to ask him what was wrong before she realized how stupid it was. How stupid she was if she thought he would even look in her direction. She reached the bottom of the stairs as he crossed the hall before her and then he looked up.

His eyes met hers and his heart skipped a beat as his stomach jumped up to his throat. He was certain she could hear his heart pounding from where she stood just that few feet away. He never realized, the thought never crossed his mind, how carelessly his gaze appeared to pass over her, how effortlessly he appeared to look the other way. She, he could have sworn, was glaring at him as always, and he was not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing his heart breaking before her.

Her breath caught as his glacier eyes met hers for that infinitely brief moment, and she bit her lip as he looked the other way. She tried not to notice the way he seemed to swagger rather than walk and the way he always seemed so coolly collected when she was so easily transformed into a jittery mess inside just by a single glance.

Had she really glared though? Or was it some other emotion in those honey-colored eyes? He couldn't be certain, he decided, as he pushed open the door and the cool air hit his face in a blast. He couldn't be certain, and therefore he could hope. Hope was something he knew well. Hope was just another word for her. For Granger. For Hermione. For Jane.

_I still try to find my place in the diary of Jane._


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

One of the two people that reviewed this asked for a second part. I also had someone ask that on the other site this is posted on. I had thought about it, but wasn't sure if I would write another part, when I heard a song the other day. I'd heard and loved the song before, but an idea for this sequel grabbed onto me while listening and wouldn't let go. So, I've written it.

I want to tell you up front that this is not a happy sequel. I also want to say that if you'd rather not read it, and just leave the shot as it was originally intended, I totally understand. I was actually quite afraid of ruining this shot with a not as good second part because it's one of my favorite things I've written. But I leave it to you guys to decide.

Well, I think this is a long enough author's note, so here we go.  
If you do read, I would love to know what you think.

the song is called Zoe Jane and it is by Staind.

xxxxx

**Sweet Zoe Jane**

He took a deep breath as he paused on the threshold. The threshold of his home, of his entire life. What was left of his mangled heart was shredding to slivers and soon there would be nothing left. He fought back the desire to step back inside, knowing that to do so would be pure selfishness, and Draco Malfoy, whatever the hell he was, was not selfish. Heartless, perhaps now, but never selfish.

The first step was the most painful. The next was hardly easier, but by the time he stepped onto the front walkway the shreds of his heart were settling to the ground behind him and he was ready. He let the cold fury wash over and strengthen him, for God only knew the strength he would need now.

Draco stepped through the front gate and allowed himself just a moment to glance back at the forsaken old manor, flawless for decades, and flawless for decades to come.

With another deep breath, Draco Malfoy disapparated.

His left forearm tingled as he approached the castle that had been his home for so many years, but he ignored it. Soon it would never tingle again. The castle looked different, now, though he knew there was no physical difference, at least not on the outside.

There was a dark figure approaching the gate and Draco realized in a detached sort of way that he was indifferent to who it might be. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered but her, Jane, his sweet Zoe Jane.

The man chuckled, a deep throaty sound that echoed gently across the empty grounds.

"Well, well, well, it's nice to see you, _Malfoy_."

Draco said nothing, but inclined his head slightly to his former comrade.

The man chuckled again at Draco's silence.

"Yer not trembling yet," the man was obviously amused. "Well, yeh will be. He'll be right pleased to see yeh."

Draco nodded again at the man's wicked grin, and slowly they began the descent to the castle. Walking as he was, to the end of his life, Draco couldn't help but remember why he was here to begin with. He couldn't help but see perfectly the moment that had so radically changed his life, right here on these very grounds.

* * *

"_Following me Granger?" He couldn't help himself anymore than he could help the spite in his tone. It wasn't hatred inspired, it was pain, but she'd never know that. She could never know that._

"_Why do you hate me, Malfoy?" came the snap of a reply, but the bite escaped her tone, and his head jerked around in surprise._

"_You're a Mu…" the word died on his mouth. He couldn't say it. The word had flown from his lips countless times and yet he couldn't bring himself to use it against her._

_There was something in her eyes. Something akin to begging—as if she wanted to hear him say it. "Go away, Granger," was his eventual reply._

"_Fine," she whispered, and it was the softness to her voice that he'd never heard before that had him catching her arm, spinning her around until their eyes locked._

"_I couldn't begin to explain the reasons why I hate you," he murmured, his voice tense with concealed agony._

_She flinched slightly under his hand and swung her head away, her hair tumbling across her cheek, hiding her face from him. He noted, subconsciously that her hair smelled like fresh jasmine, like his grandmother used to grow in her garden, and still she didn't pull away._

_His hand loosened on her arm and her head snapped back around to glare at him, not bothering to conceal the tears in her glittering eyes anymore._

"_Give me one."_

"_What?"_

"_One reason." Her voice trembled. "Tell me. One. Reason."_

_It was her eyes that made him do it. He didn't even pause. Didn't even think. The words didn't even cross his mind as they slipped as a whisper through his lips._

"_I love you."_

_One of the tears spilled from her eye and slid down her cheek as she took a shaky breath._

"_Say it again," she demanded quietly, and Draco barely realized how close they'd gotten._

_He closed his eyes, waiting for the blow as he whispered again, his voice strangled, "I love you."_

_And then he felt her collapse into him and his arms came around her automatically._

"_Oh, Malfoy, I love you, too."_

_Surely he was hallucinating. Or this was some sort of practical joke. He pulled away abruptly._

"_What?"_

_Her eyes were confused as his face became unreadable._

"_I… I love you, too," she sounded almost hesitant, but they were the most beautiful words he'd ever heard._

_And then he kissed her._

"Wait right here, Malfoy."

* * *

Draco nodded as he stopped outside the dungeon that the Dark Lord had taken as his own. It was ironic, or perhaps perfect, he mused, that he stood on the brink of death and all he could think about was the reason he'd ever found life.

He wondered, not for the first time, if she'd even had the chance to think. If she'd realized seconds before that she was going to die. He wondered selfishly if she'd thought of him, and knew immediately that if she had had a moment, even a second, exactly where her thoughts would be. Zoe, their sweet Zoe Jane.

The pain he knew he was about to endure, was nothing to how he felt when he remembered that no one knew. No one would ever know, no one except Zoe. There was the one other man who knew some part of the story, but Draco didn't know how much Hermione had told him. What Draco did know, was that he owed this man his daughter's life, and that was just one more reason why he was here.

"He'll see you in just a minute," the man's words seemed distant as his face twisted again into a grin. Draco didn't see it; he didn't hear a thing after that. He was lost suddenly and certainly in a torrent of memories. He was grateful he'd left the remains of his heart in pieces at the Manor, for otherwise he knew he couldn't bear the sweet sound echoing through his mind now.

* * *

"_Draco, I'm pregnant."_

_He stared, uncomprehending for several long moments, as tears filled her big chocolate eyes._

"_I'm sorry," she whispered finally and the haze evaporated abruptly._

"_Don't say that," he snapped, pulling her to him and crushing her in a hug. "Don't you ever be sorry for this."_

"_I'm not. I couldn't be. I love you." And he held her while she cried away all her tears and she finally let him wipe the remnants away with his thumb._

"_Jane… Hermione." He often lapsed into calling her Jane when he was thinking of _them_. Thinking of _him._ The one who couldn't know of her._

"_Yes?" He hated that she was already afraid._

"_No one can know." His eyes bore into hers looking for any sign of disagreement._

_She swallowed as her eyes shut. "I know."_

"_I don't know…"_

"_I do. It's okay."_

--

"_Of all people, Hermione?"_

"_He'll never know. He'll never ask."_

_Draco breathed out, as he pinched the bridge of his nose, harnessing his temper with all of his strength. She was the last one who deserved the fury coursing through him._

"_Alright," he whispered finally._

* * *

He wondered to this day whether Ron knew. He'd probably suspected, but whether Hermione had ever confirmed, he didn't know. He would soon. He let the pain that coursed through him at this thought, wrap around him and blanket the hole that had once been his heart. It was better this way, he reminded himself, better for her.

Oh Jane… his sweet Zoe Jane. He'd given her that name as a tribute to her mother. He knew no one would realize… but she would know. She _needed_ to know her mother was still a part of her. As his thoughts turned to the curious chocolate eyes, the delicate innocent laugh, a strangled gasp escaped his lips, and only then did Draco realize he was suppressing sobs. No, he couldn't fall apart now. Just a little while longer. A little while longer for his sweet Zoe Jane.

-

He knew even in the few short months since her birth, he had held her far too little, and seen those beautiful eyes of her mum's too few times. He didn't even try to tell himself that a baby born in the midst of a vicious raging war could expect no less, because there really was no excuse. He'd long exhausted the thought that if only Hermione had been there… that too was no longer an excuse in his mind. She'd deserved better… they'd both deserved better. He'd failed at protecting Hermione, but his perfect little daughter; she, he could still save. She, he would save—tonight.

He hoped she would remember him… that she would think of him… wonder about him. He hoped they would tell her…

_He stared at her from a few feet away. Afraid that if he got too close, touched a tiny hand, or looked into those warm brown eyes, one more time that he would crumble. He turned away and took a step. He turned back. She was still smiling up at him and he felt the tears prick his eyes and he couldn't keep them from spilling out. She was so beautiful, so like her mother already._

_His sweet Zoe Jane…_

_**Well I want you to notice  
To notice when I'm not around  
And I know that your eyes see straight through me  
And speak to me without a sound**_

Draco had to fight the tears as he fought away the memories that automatically brought them to his eyes. He sucked in a breath, hearing it amplified in the too still hall of the too empty castle. The door opened beside him and he pulled their faces to the front of his mind. There was no hiding it anymore. The Dark Lord would know why he was there, and enduring these final moments were all that was left. Jane… Hermione… Zoe… Jane would be his final thought, his final love, his final act.

He stepped over the threshold, the threshold of his life.

_**I want to hold you  
Protect you from all of the things I've already endured  
And I want to show you  
Show you all the things that this life has in store for you  
I'll always love you  
The way that a father should love his daughter**_

Smiles and chocolate eyes flashed alongside echoes of laughter, filling his mind as he stepped forward. There was so much he wished he could do for her. So much she needed from him. He tried to block the thoughts that poured unbidden into his mind… Who would tell her of her mother, of Hermione… Who would tell her how much both her parents loved her… Who would tell her of him? Would anyone even know that he'd ever changed… that in his final days he'd done everything he could to save his daughter?

"Why so sad, Draco?" the soft taunting voice fell on deaf ears. Draco was lost to him, lost to the world. He was in the midst of memories now, for if he was to die, he would do it thinking of them, of her. Jane, Jane, sweet Jane.

"And why did you not bring your daughter to visit? Surely we should become acquainted?"

Draco's icy eyes flashed up to the red, hollow and broken, but he said nothing. He could hear Hermione's voice in his ear as she whispered the first words to their daughter. He could feel her lips against his that same morning, the last time he'd ever touched her.

"Why are you here, Draco? Tell me." The Dark Lord was clearly amused at the situation, but Draco could hardly spare a bit of emotion for this soulless man who had taken everything Draco held dear.

"I wish I could be here," Draco said quietly, almost to himself, though his eyes still bore sightlessly into the depthless red. "When he kills you."

The Dark Lord laughed, a harsh, humorless laugh.

"Potter? Surely you don't speak of Potter."

Draco didn't reply.

Silence reigned for a long while as the Dark Lord surveyed the young man before him, before finally drawing his long fingers together and resting his chin on their tips.

"Do you really believe I would kill you, just because you wish it?"

"Yes."

"Why?" the Dark Lord seemed honestly curious.

"You couldn't resist anymore than a cat could resist a trapped mouse," Draco's voice dripped with venom, and there was no room in his mind for doubt of his words. It had to end here. He was prepared to do what he must to end this tonight.

The Dark Lord seemed to be pondering this thought, but Draco had already slipped inside his mind once more. It was the only thing keeping him sane, as he knew his final moment was ticking nearer.

_Once he'd turned for good, he walked away quickly. He knew if he stopped walking now he'd never make it. The tears he'd been unable to keep from falling, continued to stain his ghost pale face, but they garnered no notice from him. He had one last thing to do._

_The house elf already had its instructions. It merely needed the final command, and everything would be done. By nightfall, sweet Zoe would no longer be alone. By nightfall she'd find warm arms to hold her once more. Draco ached that it couldn't be him, but he knew there was no other way. No other way to keep her safe._

_**When I walked out this morning  
I cried as I walked to the door  
I cried about how long I'd be away for  
I cried about leaving you all alone**_

There was no doubt in his mind they'd accept her. He had a feeling even, that Ron would know. Soon, certainly, but the moment he saw her eyes… Jane's eyes. Hermione's eyes. Yes, Ron would know.

"I'm going to kill you," the Dark Lord mused.

"Yes."

"Why?"

Draco didn't reply.

"It would be a waste to spill blood as pure as yours."

"Yet spill it will," Draco whispered.

"Hm." The Dark Lord seemed utterly perplexed at the turn of events. "You plan to provoke me."

"If I must."

"Go on then."

Draco's eyes stayed unfocused for just a moment as the precious face of his daughter flashed once more in his mind's eye.

_**I want to hold you  
Protect you from all of the things I've already endured  
And I want to show you  
Show you all the things that this life has in store for you  
I'll always love you  
The way that a father should love his daughter**_

He brought his wand up as he blinked and his eyes sharpened abruptly, taking in the calm look on the Dark Lord's face.

"Avada—."

The spell knocked Draco from his feet and the air whooshed from his lungs, the incantation falling unfinished from his lips.

The Dark Lord was standing now as Draco clambered back to his feet.

"Avada—."

Draco felt his chest turn to fire as a gash cut through his skin just above his heart.

"Avada—."

"Crucio."

He'd expected that one sooner, but this thought along with all others evaporated from his mind as it filled with pain, only pain.

The second the spell was removed Draco fell gasping to all fours as her eyes blinked brightly up at him from behind his.

_**Sweet Zoe Jane  
Sweet Zoe Jane**_

Then the pain hit him again and finally a scream was wrenched from his lips, a scream that had building from the moment he'd heard the words, "_She's gone_," the moment he'd realized there was only one option left, the moment he'd realized his only hope lay in the two men he'd always hated.

"Draco, Draco, don't make this so easy," the Dark Lord's voice echoed in the suddenly silent dungeon.

"Avada—."

This time Draco was only thrown back.

"Stand up," the Dark Lord commanded quietly.

Draco climbed slowly to his feet, his thoughts still full of his little girl. She was safe now, or would be soon. He'd lost track of time since he'd stepped through that wrought-iron gate. She would have the smallest piece of him that he could give her… a letter to be given to her whenever her new guardians saw fit. It was this final thought, remembering that she would at least have a tiny piece of him, that she couldn't forget him entirely, that reassured him that this was where he was meant to be.

_**So I wanted to say this  
'**__**Cause I wouldn't know where to begin  
To explain to you what I have been through  
To explain where your daddy has been**_

Draco straightened himself to his full height and looked the Dark Lord in the eye. "She'll forever be safe from you. No matter how long it takes Potter to kill you, which he will do." He spoke quiet and sure, his eyes once again openly meeting the red he had feared for so long. Fear… there was no fear left in him now. There was hardly anything left. Nothing but a final sweet memory.

The Dark Lord never even acknowledged that Draco had been right all along. He never realized as he raised his wand, so immersed in the moment, in the anticipation of killing, that this had never been his fight to win. From the moment he'd stepped through the door, Draco had surrendered fully and willingly for his daughter's life. And in a faint echoing memory of Lily Potter, there was a green flash and a father collapsed to the floor.

No one could touch her now, not his Jane, his sweet Zoe Jane.

_**I want to hold you  
Protect you from all of the things I've already endured  
And I want to show you  
Show you all the things that this life has in store for you  
I'll always love you  
The way that a father should love his daughter**_

_**Sweet Zoe Jane  
Sweet Zoe Jane**_


End file.
